The banter had crackled all evening like dry kindling. "Your wit cuts sharper than your heels," I said, leaning across the table. "And your cock gets harder than your excuses," you shot back, eyes flashing with that wicked spark that always left me grinning and half-hard under the tablecloth.
We parted with promises and heat. Hours later I stirred in the gray light, only to find you already astride my face, knees planted, your wet swollen folds hovering an inch above my mouth. "Morning, dreamer," you purred, voice low and amused. "Hope you’re hungry. I’m not moving until I’m satisfied."
I groaned, tongue already reaching. You lowered yourself with deliberate control, grinding slowly. "Lick my clit like you mean it," you instructed, rolling your hips. "Deeper. That’s it—devour every drop of that sweet nectar."
You rode me like a wild stallion, strong thighs flexing, ass rocking, sweat beginning to sheen your skin. "Remember that blowjob you begged for last night?" you teased between panting breaths, one hand braced on the headboard. "My mouth on your hard cock, sucking until you came down my throat? Now it’s my turn, and you’re going to earn it."
I gripped your ass, pulling you tighter, tongue working faster as you grew wetter, dripping onto my chin. "Horny little thing," you laughed, voice husky. "Keep going—make me cum all over that clever face." Your movements turned urgent, thighs trembling, breath ragged, until the climax hit you in a strong, shuddering wave, your pussy pulsing against my tongue while you moaned my name like a victory cry.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.